Relaxed in Your Hands
by accio-ambition
Summary: When she's forced to be at a party, Regina finds the best healing technique - among other things - in one of her brother's friends.


It's a pain, her neck. She must've slept on it wrong or something earlier this week, because it's still causing her discomfort through twice-daily Motrin doses and almost constant switches between her heating pad and frozen peas.

She doesn't want to be at this party. She wants to be in her pajamas, in bed with warmth on her neck, the covers pulled up to her nose and her Netflix queue running until her laptop dies.

But no. It's her brother's birthday, his party, and she might hate the sassy bastard from time to time, but they're the only family they've got these days.

She may have had a drink too many. She has been drinking since six and it's nearly midnight now. The ones she has had mix poorly with the drugs she's consumed the past couple of days. The flickering lights are making for a trip and when she runs into the wall with her shoulder, Regina is oh-so-happy to have something to keep her upright. Her breath comes a bit deep, her heart racing, her chest heaving either from the dancing or the slight panic attack she might be currently having. And only now does she realize her reaction time is severely impaired because running in to the wall sloshed her drink over her fingers and down on her feet.

"Are you alright there?" a deep voice says at her ear. It frightens her, causes her to jump and slam her back into the wall behind her. A hand lands on her bicep. "Whoa, calm down there, milady."

"Go away," Regina moans. "I don't want to deal with people right now."

His laugh is cheerful, good natured. "Then I do think you're in the wrong environment."

Regina squints, trying to make out this guy's features through the haze of alcohol and the intermittent darkness the strobes cause. At first glance, he kind of looks like a monkey. A cute monkey, with scruff and a wide smile directed towards her. His hair blends into the background of colors, a sandy dirty blond, and his eyes. She focuses on his eyes because they're a clear blue, standing out from the rest of their dark surroundings.

"I can't argue with you there," Regina says, rolling her neck only for pain to shoot up and down her spine, an awful reminder. "But it's for my brother, so I -"

"So you're the infamous Regina," the man says with realization, completely glazing over her wince. "All Killian talks on the sidelines is his brilliant girlfriend and how much he hates his sister."

She unthinkingly punches this guy's arm. He stumbles back, but when he comes back he swings even further into her space, resting his one forearm on the wall beside her.

"I was wondering where the family resemblance was, but I think I've found it now."

"You better shut up, Mr.…." she trails off. She doesn't even know this guy's name.

"Right," he says with a nod. "Robin Locksley, at your service."

Regina grimaces, nods, and goes to take another sip of her jungle juice. But it's not in her hand. A brief survey of the area turns up with her cup in this Robin character's hand. "You stole my drink," she growls.

"Actually, you handed it to me and I took it so you didn't spill it all over yourself. Again."

"Thief," Regina mutters, reaching for the cup. When Robin yanks it back, accompanied by something along the lines of "I think you've had enough, Regina," she follows. She winces again, the angle at which she bends her neck disagreeing with her. Suffering defeat, she thumps her back against the wall, more pain rocketing through her.

"Are you alright?" Robin asks.

"You've already asked me that," Regina mentions.

"And you never answered."

Shaking her head, she rubs sloppily at her neck, hoping to alleviate some of the tension and pain built up there. "It's nothing." His look is inquiring, already questioning the reality of her injury. Regina sighs. "I slept on my neck wrong or something and it's been bothering me for a couple days."

"Did you try icing it?" he asks.

Regina nods. "And heat and Motrin and sleeping this way and that and blah blah blah."

"Do you want me to look at it?"

Her brows furrow and she pulls back, ignoring the twinge it sets off in her neck. "What can you do it about it? I just met you and you stole my drink."

This he laughs at. She's surprisingly offended by the action and tells him so with another punch to his arm.

"I'm studying kinesiology," he explains when he leans closer to her, "aiming to be a physical therapist. This is my cup of tea."

Regina's sure the skepticism is written all over her face. "So you want to use me as a practice dummy?"

"I want to make sure my mate's beautiful if not a little intoxicated sister isn't in pain."

That catches her off guard. She must be really drunk if his obvious flirtations have passed her judgement. Though, now that she thinks about it, she's sure they are the picture of being hit on: him in the wooing stance, flexing his arms and invading her space; her leaning against the wall with a silly smile on her face, paying attention to him.

"C'mon, Regina," Robin pleads with her. "I promise I won't hurt you permanently."

She scoffs. "That's not frightening at all."

Pushing off the wall, he places his hands out in front of his face, gives his fingers a wiggle. "It'll feel good."

She ponders it for a minute. At this rate, she's willing to try anything to heal this, seeing as time and modern medicine have been doing shit. Finally, with a sigh, she pushes off the wall as well. "Fine, fine. What do you need me to do?"

Robin grins. "Nothing. Just look at my eyes and you'll be golden, darling."

So she does. The blue is crystal, calming her breathing even if it speeds up her heartrate. His hands are warm and big, spanning the length of her neck when he touches her. Gently, he pulsates along the muscles, forcing her eyes to slide closed and an embarrassing groan from her lips.

"Don't stop," Regina murmurs.

"How does it feel now?" he asks. Even so soon after meeting him, Regina can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Don't be smug," she chides him. She opens her eyes, matching his blue eyes alight with said smugness. "It's not becoming."

"I'm happy to be of help to a lovely lady," he says kindly.

His fingers still apply slight pressure to her neck, so when she tilts her head to the side, it doesn't really hurt. She's missed the ability to do this. "Are you sure you're friends with my brother? He would've jumped at the chance to innuendo-ize that."

Robin mimics the gesture. "First off, does he really do that? You're his sister."

"It's disgusting," Regina answers with a shake of her head.

"I can imagine." He nods solemnly before continuing. "And second, I have a stronger honor code than Killian does, no offense. I love your brother, but how he managed to land Emma is a mystery to me."

"It baffles me every day."

Silence between the two of them ensues. The music of the party is still blasted, the lights still strobing, and everyone in attendance is just getting their party started. But the alcohol is really flowing through her veins now. Six hours of drinking and party planning and general fatigue of the day seem to be catching up with Regina. The added heat of Robin's grip doesn't help. She sighs in content, sort of slouching back against the wall. His hands drag against the skin of her neck.

"Are you okay?" Robin asks.

"You've got to stop asking me that," Regina responds with a chuckle.

"I will when I know you are." He steps closer to her, his eyes almost at level with hers and his hands on the side of her neck. "Regina, may I ask you a question?"

"As long as it's not any variation of 'are you okay.'"

Robin smiles, kind and genuine. His thumb runs along her jawbone. "May I kiss you?"

Regina bites her lip. "Right now?"

"Yes," he says quietly. "Assuming you have no objections."

She knows it's cruel to do what she does, but she wants to see if he'll pass the test. "And if I have a boyfriend?"

The warmth at her neck disappears as Robin takes a step back, out of her sphere of comfort. "Then I'll apologize profusely and go about my merry way."

That won't do.

"Hmm," Regina hums, this time stepping into his body. "Good thing that won't be necessary." She tilts her head up to meet his lips, but even in the short time without his body heat, her neck has stiffened up. Wincing, she looks away, sucking in a breath through her teeth and staring at their feet until the pain passes.

"Still hurting?" Robin asks, bending down to meet her. She gives him a small nod. "Let's see what we can do about that, then."

Once more, his hands come to the side of her neck. Slowly, he moves her head until it's tilted at just the right angle for their lips to meet. And when they do, it's amazing. Alcohol and painkillers be damned, she's very glad she attended this party.

Robin's smiling into the kiss, his hands gently directing her head where to go. He tastes of rum, the one drink Killian insist be at this party. Almost like she's having an out-of-body experience, Regina feels her arms reach up and grab at his biceps, steadying herself with him. His facial hair tickles the skin at her cheek and they break apart because she can't stop laughing.

"What?" Robin asks through his chuckles.

"Your face," Regina says with a giggle. "The hair. It feels funny on my face."

"Sort of like this?" he inquires as he presses his lips all over her face, brushing the shadow of hair on his face across hers. She tries to push him off or pull him closer to her lips, she can't quite tell, but his hands move from her neck down her back and soon after the moment is broken. Her neck's bent too far back and she's sort of stuck looking like she's struggling for breath.

Which she is. Robin's quite the kisser.

He apologizes, "I was caught up in you, Regina," and slowly moves her neck to a normal position. "There we are."

She smiles at him, drags her hand down his arm until she circles her wrist. And then she yawns.

"Maybe you should call it a night," Robin suggests.

Regina shrugs, hoping her next request is met with a warm answer. "Only if you call it a night with me."

Shaking his head, Robin kisses her again. "That is a wonderful idea. What if you get stuck looking up at the ceiling all night? We couldn't have that now, could we?"

"No," she says with a sigh. "We could not."

His hand is strong and sure when she threads her fingers through his, softly tugging him to the stairs. It's moments like these where she's gratefully she decided to throw her brother's party at home: she can go up to her room, hide herself under the blankets and run her Netflix queue, a new and much more successful brand of medicine healing the pain in her neck.

(And if she wakes up in the morning stiff and sore in other places, she knows exactly how to deal with those injuries too.)


End file.
